Table of Contents
Excerpt
Praise for Debra St. John’s
New Year’s Eve at The Corral
Copyright
Dedication
December 31—2:00 p.m.
4:00 p.m.
6:00 p.m.
6:15 p.m.
7:15 p.m.
8:30 p.m.
11:45 p.m.
January 1—12:15 a.m.
12:45 a.m.
2:00 a.m.
A word about the author…
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Fulfilling Darla’s dare could prove to be
very interesting. To say the least. How wide would Nick’s eyes pop if she were actually wearing that gown? For him.
“I’ll go get the broom.” Darla’s words acted like much-needed cold water and doused the flames of the inappropriate fantasy.
“No, it was my fault. I’ll get it.” Tina stalked across the bar. The overhead fans swept cool air across her flaming cheeks. As she pushed the door of the supply closet, it suddenly opened, throwing her off balance. She stumbled. Right into Nick’s arms.
They closed around her. “Whoa.”
She clutched his shoulders. She’d hugged Nick before. Lots of times. Since it had been that kind of day and she hadn’t quite recovered from earlier, this time was different. Exciting. More exciting than it should be.
The woodsy scent of his aftershave made her head spin. Her heart hammered against her ribs. The breath caught in her throat. When he looked down at her, her whole body froze as every involuntary, life-supporting system ceased to function.
If someone had asked whether or not she thought Nick was good looking, she would have responded in the affirmative. Here in his arms, a whole new awareness gripped her. Had she ever fully appreciated the hard muscles beneath the T-shirt? The slight wave in the brown-almost-black hair falling onto his forehead. The dark chocolate with caramel of his eyes.
Those melt-you-where-you-stood eyes held a combination of concern and something deeper. Darker. Something all consuming that tugged at her soul.
Praise for Debra St. John’s
Corral Series
“Original turns of phrase make [THIS FEELS LIKE HOME] a delightful read. A great concept: a bull rider paired with a safety-conscious woman…who could ask for more built in conflict?”
~Ashantay Peters, author of Dickens of a Death
~*~
“The story and characters tugged at my heart while reading. I enjoyed [THIS CAN’T BE LOVE] very much. If you like a contemporary, passionate and emotional read, then laugh and cry along with this one. An author who can make the reader feel so many things is one that has staying power in the writing world.”
~Long and Short Reviews (5 Books)
~*~
“Ms. Debra St. John has created a magnificent storyline in [THIS TIME FOR ALWAYS], her first published work.”
~The Romance Studio (5 Hearts)
New Year’s Eve
at The Corral
by
Debra St. John
Holidays at The Corral Series
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
New Year’s Eve at The Corral
COPYRIGHT © 2016 by Deborah Rittle
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Diana Carlile
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Champagne Rose Edition, 2016
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1079-4
Holidays at The Corral Series
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
As always, to John.
~*~
And to a fortuitous New Year’s Eve at my own “Corral” that hooked me up with a great group of writers
and set me on the path to publication.
~*~
Cheers.
December 31—2:00 p.m.
“Has anyone made any New Year’s Resolutions yet?”
Tina Perkins added a generous dollop of potato salad to her plate. The waitresses and other staff of The Corral sat upstairs in the restaurant for a late lunch. Or was it an early dinner, before the bar opened for the party later? Those gathered around the table offered answers to Darla’s question. Lose weight. Travel. Get a tattoo. Find a boyfriend. Find a girlfriend. Spend more time with family.
Next to her, Nick Jameson, bartender extraordinaire and her best friend, nudged her arm. “How original,” he whispered.
Tina laughed. The answers were a bit clichéd. Personally she had no interest in a tattoo and for the moment was satisfied with her work out regime. All her clothes fit fine. Spending time with family was always a good thing. A girlfriend was out, she didn’t swing that way, but a boyfriend would be nice.
Across the table, Pam absentmindedly rubbed the slight bulge of her belly.
A family of her own someday would be nice. First the hypothetical boyfriend would need to become a husband.
Nick would make someone a good husband. Not her of course. It wasn’t like that between them. Although she couldn’t deny the hint of attraction that simmered right beneath the surface, hooking up with Nick, as good as it probably would be, wasn’t worth risking their friendship over. Lovers came and went. Truly good friends were much rarer and harder to find.
Besides, she knew Nick. He wasn’t interested in settling down. He wasn’t a player in the strictest sense of the word, but happily ever after with one woman wasn’t on his radar anywhere in the near future.
As the conversation flowed around her, Nick leaned closer. She inhaled the crisp scent of his aftershave. He always smelled so damn good. “Did you make any resolutions this year?”
She shrugged. “Not really. How about you?”
He rolled his eyes. “Nope. Isn’t it something like nine out of ten New Year’s resolutions are broken within a week? Why bother?”
“Is there something you two would like to share with the rest of the class?” Darla raised her voice and her eyebrows. “Do you want us to leave so you can be alone?”
Teasing Tina about her platonic relationship with Nick was a favorite pastime for most of the staff. Since she loved them all dearly, she let them have their fun. She did, however, stick out her tongue for good measure.
Darla laughed. “Come on, share. What’s your resolution?”
“I don’t have one.”
“Really?” Her glance slid to Nick before meeting Tina’s gaze again. “Not even, say, kicking things up a notch?” Her smile was coy.
“Sorry, I leave the kitchen duties to Zach.” She took a bite of hamburger for emphasis.
Darla’s brow furrowed. “What?”
“Oh, wasn’t that an Emeril cooking reference?” Tina infused an extra dose of innocence into her tone.
Titters of laughter erupted around the table.
Nick snorted. He was a good sport about the teasing too. Did he ever tire of the sometimes not-so-subtle innuendoes? “Tina’s culinary skills are just fine. She makes a mean mac and cheese.”
Darla shook her head sadly. �
��Did you guys get a good deal on the double-subscription to denial?”
Tina waved her hand. “Whatever.” She grabbed Nick’s wrist and glanced at his watch. “I need to get a move on and run to the store to grab a few more things so we can finish decorating downstairs.”
Nick pushed back his chair and stood. “I’ll go with you.”
“Shocking,” Darla murmured.
He arched a brow. “I’m out of laundry detergent at home, and the store won’t be open tomorrow.”
Another thing she liked about living in a small town. Unlike the big chain stores who treated holidays as a way to entice more people in the door, shops around here saw a holiday as a way to let people enjoy time off to spend with their families.
“So your New Year’s resolution is to do laundry?” Pam teased.
“Sure. Might as well make use of the time in between quarters of the bowl games.”
Tina headed toward the kitchen with her plate and utensils.
Darla took them from her hands. “We’ll clean up here. We can’t start decorating downstairs until you get back, so the sooner you go and all that.”
Nick grinned. “Translation. They want us to leave so they can talk about us.”
“Out,” Darla ordered while everyone laughed.
4:00 p.m.
“Do you really think they’re talking about us?”
“Does a twenty-one year old toss his cookies after a first night of over-indulgence?”
Tina laughed but posed a serious question. “Does it bother you when they talk like that?”
“You mean like they think we’re going to hop in the nearest closet and rip off each other’s clothes?”
Distracted by the forbidden image the words conjured, she didn’t answer immediately. The blast of chilly air as she opened the door to step down out of the truck chased the fantasy away. “Yep, like that.”
“Nope. Doesn’t bother me.” He glanced over. “Does it bother you?”
“No.” Although it did put thoughts, ideas, and desires in her head that shouldn’t be there. “I figure why not let them have their fun.”
“Exactly.” He pulled open the glass door and held it for her. Always the gentleman. Good old-fashioned manners were hard to come by these days. “What are we here to pick up?”
“I special ordered some decorations for the centerpieces. I have to pick them up at the customer service counter.”
“I’ll grab my laundry detergent and meet you at the check out.” Nick took two steps then stopped and held out a T-shirt from a nearby rack. The silk screening read: Welcome to the Gun Show. “Do you think I can pull this off?” He flexed a bicep. Muscle bulged and stretched the sleeve of his black shirt. The script from his Bottoms Up tattoo was just visible.
Tina swallowed so she wouldn’t drool. So sue her. There wasn’t a law against looking. “If you want people to think you’re an idiot.” She hung the hanger back over the hook and threaded her arm through his. “Come on, Schwarzenegger. We don’t have time to window shop.” She steered him away and gave him a little push. “Go get your detergent.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her knees wobbled a little and her heart beat a bit faster as he strolled away. Not really her fault. No woman in the world should be expected to resist those words spoken in a soft, southern drawl.
Less than five minutes later, she made her way toward the checkout toting a box filled with plastic cowboy hats, star confetti, and miniature pre-inflated silver balloons. Nick was already waiting with a gallon jug in his hand. She hid a smile at the sight of the cute teddy bear on the side.
“Is that heavy?”
“Nope. Oh shoot. I forgot, I also need a bag of small pebbles.”
“Where the heck do we find those?”
“Pet aisle. I’m just going to get the ones that go in the bottom of a fish tank.”
“Okay.” He grabbed the box. “Is it okay if we leave this here?” he asked the teen-aged clerk behind the counter.
The girl nodded, her eyes slightly wide and dazed as they swept over Nick. Tina couldn’t blame her. Dressed all in black as he was today, he definitely gave off a sexy, bad boy vibe. He scanned the signs hanging from the ceiling. “All the way at the back of the store. Let’s cut through.”
Tina followed as he led the way through the clothing section. She stopped when he brushed by a rack too closely and a garment fell to the floor. “Wait.” She picked up the nightgown. Designed to hit mid-thigh, the short skirt flared out while the low cut lace bodice was held up by thin straps. The silky black satin slid through her fingers. Too bad she didn’t have a boyfriend at the moment.
Nick turned. His eyes popped wide. “Are you buying that?” He sounded like he was being strangled.
“No. You knocked it down. I’m just hanging it back up.”
“Oh.” His unblinking stare remained riveted on the gown. He swallowed. Glanced up at her. Away again. “It’s, uh, nice.”
“Yep.”
His gaze met hers again. His eyes remained unfocused. Yet wild. Instinct, age-old women’s intuition, told her he was picturing her in the sexy gown. New Year’s resolution or not, the ever-present tension had indeed kicked up a notch, nudging it just a bit closer to the surface and revealing a new layer of enticement.
“Rocks.”
The almost harsh word made her jump.
“We need to get rocks.”
“Right.” She replaced the hanger on the rack. Maybe someday she’d wear something like it. For Nick? Damn. The exposed temptation refused to be buried now.
She’d just have to ignore it. It’s not worth the risk, she reminded herself.
6:00 p.m.
The friend zone sucked.
Nick slammed the glass onto the shelf behind the bar with a little more force than necessary, as across the room Tina bent over to extract a plastic cowboy hat from the box at her feet. A couple dozen explicit, X-rated fantasies involving her delectable derriere, not to mention lots of other body parts, lit the private cinema in his brain and caused most of the blood from his upper half to head south.
He wanted to hit that. Bad. Wanted to see her long, dark hair spilled across his pillow. Her body clothed in that little black number from the store. Then wearing nothing at all. Her blue eyes darkened with desire. For him.
But he couldn’t. Tina was his friend. One of his best. Despite the almost never-ceasing ache of wanting her, even he wasn’t stupid enough to ruin their friendship by giving in to the demanding bastard in his pants.
Or was he?
Tina stood, pressing her hands into the small of her back and arching. Full breasts thrust against the thin cotton of her T-shirt, which hugged her flat stomach before settling just above the wide belt of her low-riding jeans: baring a one inch strip of skin begging to be stroked. Or licked.
His mouth went dry, and his head buzzed like he’d had too many shots of Jager.
Screw it. He had plenty of other friends. Ones who constantly teased him about doing the very thing he wanted to do. They obviously thought he and Tina doing the nasty was a good idea.
Although he’d vowed to avoid making a resolution, one screamed at him. Battered him. Wore him down. He gave in and resolved: This coming year, the sooner the better, he was going to get out of the friend zone and into Tina’s bed.
6:15 p.m.
“Could he want you more?”
Tina frowned at Darla. “What?”
“As usual, Nick can’t take his eyes off of you.”
Tina waved her hand and strove for a nonchalant tone, even though her heart kicked up like the fast beat of a two-step. Not really her fault. If he hadn’t bought such a ginormous jug of laundry detergent and knocked that skimpy outfit off of the rack, she wouldn’t be having hot flashes like a sixty-year-old woman in the throes of menopause. “It’s not like that. We’re friends.” Maybe if she got the refrain tattooed on her forearm, Darla would give it a rest.
Darla snorted. “Right. My friends don’t l
ook at me like that.”
“Really.” It was better that way. Why mess up a good thing with sex? Sex always made things messy. Even when getting messy was part of the fun.
When the undercurrent of attraction popped to the surface like it had today, she and Nick always ignored it. They didn’t let it get in the way of their friendship. Which was unusual in light of the whole cultural argument about a single man and a single woman not being able to stay platonic friends. In most cases, sooner or later, one or the other decided they wanted something more. Dozens of movies had been made about it. There were books galore on the topic. Probably a dissertation or two floating around in the world of academia. The ideal of falling in love with your best friend. The person who knew you better than anyone, and loved you in spite of it.
“Puh-lease. You can’t tell me you never thought about it.”
Yeesh. Darla was laying it on thick tonight. Tina forced herself not to glance in the direction of the bar and centered a black plastic cowboy hat on the table. She poured in the tiny white rocks then nestled picks with pre-inflated miniature silver balloons in them. To finish the centerpiece, she sprinkled a handful of star confetti on the rest of the surface. “There.”
“Nice. But you didn’t answer my question.”
“You didn’t ask one.”
Darla folded her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes. “Grammar? Fine. Have you ever thought about sleeping with Nick?”
Dammit. Now Tina had to either lie or confess. Maybe there was a third option. “Um, dare?” She scooted the box over to the next table with her foot.
“Ha ha.” Darla shook her head. “Okay. I dare you to sleep with Nick tonight.”
Tina set the cowboy hat on the table so hard the plastic edge crumpled a bit. Oops. “One track mind anyone?”
“Okay. Well, if you’re not interested in Nick, maybe I’ll try to hook up with him tonight. A girl’s gotta have someone to kiss at midnight.”
Tina lost her grip on the bag of rocks. They spilled onto the table and cascaded down to the floor with a soft patter. “Dammit.”
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